FF7 Roy spinoff
by InyrilJace
Summary: A spin-off of Septasonicxx's Roy Peters story. It happens after Ch 32.   What happened to Viktor after no-one came back for him? And what happened to the bodies of the dead Wutai rebels?


**A/N: Just to make sure you understand what's going on here, this is a spin-off story that follows on from Septasonicxx's fanfiction story, Roy Peters. Specifically, it follows on after Ch 32. You can find Septasonicxx here on this site, under the same username. Her Roy story is titled 'Roy Peters'.  
Enjoy!~**

* * *

"General Sephiroth, sir!" The young 3rd Class SOLDIER snapped to attention as Sephiroth entered the room. The youth chewed nervously on his bottom lip and tried not to squirm too much. This was the worst situation he could ever imagine being in.

"What is it, young man?" Sephiroth asked with a slightly irritated tone, "I have many other important things to do and right now, you are cutting into the time alotted for them." The great man arched an eyebrow and watched, unamused, as the 3rd Class stammered weakly.

"It-it's about the prisoner, sir."

"What about him?" Something in Sephiroth's expression changed, going cold, "He's dead."

"But sir ... he's not here!"

Sephiroth paused and looked back at the 3rd Class for a moment before turning his gaze onto the rest of the room. Genesis' office had been turned into a battlefield of gore and violence. Splashes of crimson decorated the walls and four lifeless bodies littered the floor.

Wait – _four?_

Sephiroth stepped forward, his brow furrowed as he halted in front of a large, still-damp bloodstain. It was smudged in places and blood smears led away from it. The General caught his breath in his throat as his eyes were led to the window and locked onto the red-tainted glass. He let the breath out in disbelief.

The faintest hint of a smile shadowed his face.

"Oh, Sergei," he muttered. "Really?"

"As you can see, sir, the prisoner's body is gone. But how? All the Wutaian infiltrators were killed. Who retrieved his body?" The 3rd Class seemed to be musing out loud, rather than asking specific questions.

"No-one retrieved the body, SOLDIER. He walked out."

"What? But, sir! Please! There is too much blood for him to have survived. Besides, Commander Rhapsodos reported him dead at the scene. You yourself were here. You witnessed it! There is no way that that man was not dead!"

"You forget, this prisoner was not only a Wutai extremist, but a 2nd Class SOLDIER. He deserted ShinRa and began to fight for Wutai's freedom. It should not surprise you that he would be able to fake being dead." Sephiroth's tone held slight admiration. The 3rd Class gaped and shook his head.

"But for so long? It's impossible!"

"Believe me, if you had known Sergei Molotov you would know it is not impossible." Sephiroth held the young man's gaze for a moment before looking back at the window. "But that is of no consequence now. The prisoner has escaped, for the second time. He is probably well away from ShinRa – possibly even Midgar – by now."

"Sir! Do you want me to organise a search-and-retrieval team, sir?"

This time, Sephiroth did not restrain the smirk that came over his face. Slowly, he shook his head.

"No. If he's gone to such lengths to survive, then he deserves his freedom." Wistfulness touched Sephiroth's eyes and he found himself remembering days long in the past, days that he began to long for once again.

"Uh, then what is your official report on the situation, sir?" asked the 3rd Class, sounding genuinely confused. Surely, Sephiroth would not be able to get away with allowing such a high priority prisoner run free!

"Prisoner Sergei Molotov: Killed in action. Body: Not recovered."

Turning on his heel, Sephiroth strode out of his friend's office and left the carnage behind. A strange feeling had come over him and it took him a moment to define it. Could it be ... yes, that was it.

Relief.

* * *

His breaths were heavy and grated harshly on his throat. The wound on his right arm had opened again and was flowing freely, blood coating his side. Yet that was nothing compared to the blood that flowed down the front of his torso and onto his legs, leaving faint red marks on the ground that were scuffed over by his boots.

Cringing, Sergei gripped his gut tighter and stumbled on.

The wound should have killed him. Given time, indeed it would have! Fortunately for him, the two SOLDIERs had left his dying body when he still had strength enough to reach into his pocket and draw the life-saving item out.

A Cure materia. Sergei had stolen it during his escape.

Despite the healing capabilities of the materia, his wounds still remained. The materia had not been powerful enough to completely cure him, but it was enough to slow the bleeding, heal some of the internal damage and give him the strength he needed to escape out of the building, the moment everyone's backs were turned.

Now all he had to do was make it to the rendezvous point.

Grunting as he toiled on through the pain, Sergei ignored the stinging sweat that dripped into his eyes as he lifted his head and scoured the horizon, searching for any sign of the helicopter. Slight fear gripped him as he wondered whether the man in the helicopter had decided not to wait any longer. After all, it was hours and hours after the specified return time.

His foot caught on a rock and he fell, sprawling in the dirt. Sergei cried out in agony as his wounds were violently jarred and opened further, dirt finding its way into them. Sucking in deep breaths, he slowly pushed himself up and sat back.

His vision was blurry and his head was spinning. Sergei knew he had lost too much blood, but there was nothing he could do about that now. All he could do was keep going. He was not going to be defeated by ShinRa! He was too strong and too stubborn for that!

By sheer willpower, Sergei forced himself to his feet and continued to stagger forward. His body was hunched over, hands gripping at his gut wound as though they could force the blood back inside his veins.

How much longer would this go on for?

Sergei wanted to risk a glance back at the receding Midgar, but did not have the strength. His knees buckled but he forced them to hold him up. The ground sloped and he made his way down the incline, barely noticing the wall of rocks that rose up to the left of him.

A shadow fell over him and he turned his eyes, finally noticing the rocks towering beside him. But more importantly was the looming black form of a streamlined aerial vehicle.

Sergei gasped and lurched away as his mind registered the red and white logo against the black metal, before Kuja and Kuta's words came back to him and he relaxed. Relief filled him and he stumbled over to the side of the helicopter.

The figure inside the cockpit of the helicopter jumped in surprise before opening the door and running out. Small hands grasped hold of Sergei and he felt the last reserves of his strength run out. His knees crashed to the ground, entire body shaking as his breaths came in intermittent gasps.

"Mister, what happened to you?"

Sergei weakly lifted his head and stared into the large worried eyes of a young boy. Confusion crossed his face.

"W-who are you? Where's the man ... who's meant ... to ... to take me back ... to Wutai?" As soon as the words were spoken, Sergei cursed himself and wished he had been more cautious. Yet the pain and exhaustion had weakened his mind as well as his body. He should have expected that he would be more willing with information than normal.

The boy's eyes widened even further – amazingly – and his mouth dropped open.

"You ... You're the prisoner? You're Sergei?"

Breathless, the wounded man nodded. The boy stared at him before glancing back the way Sergei had come, scouring the horizon.

"Where are the others?" The boy's voice was suddenly very small and nervous. Sergei shook his head and sucked air back into his weak lungs.

"They ... didn't make it."

The boy stood there dumbly, looking as though he had been slapped. All the blood drained out of his face and small tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes, threatening to overflow. With an incredible resolve the boy squared his jaw, lifted his chin and held the tears at bay. Taking a firm hold of Sergei's arm, the boy helped drag the wounded man into the back of the helicopter.

"A-are you gonna be okay?" the boy asked, fighting back the cracks in his voice. Breathless, Sergei looked at the boy for a long moment before looking away.

"Just ... get me back to Wutai. And to a doctor."

"But we can't leave!" the boy yelped. "What if you're wrong? What if someone else survived?"

Sergei met the boy's gaze and held it.

"I'm sorry, kid. I was there. No-one else survived. They were all dead before I escaped."

As the tears came back with renewed force, the boy slammed the side door of the helicopter and ran to the cockpit, scrambling in and starting the machine up in record time. He could barely see through his flooded eyes but he didn't care as he wrenched the joystick and left the ground behind.

Sergei closed his eyes and focused on keeping pressure on his wounds. The kid obviously had an attachment to one of the Wutaians who had come in to rescue him. Probably Orn. Sergei had never met Orn before today.

Not having the strength to continue with that line of thought, Sergei blanked his mind and fought to stay alive.

* * *

By the time the helicopter reached Wutai, the strange man was unconscious and Viktor was on the verge of a breakdown. Throughout the flight, he had kept a close eye on the man – what was his name, Sergei? – and had been horrified to witness a large pool of blood slowly expanding out from his limp body.

The man needed medical help, immediately.

Flying low, Viktor searched the rugged terrain for any sign of the rebel campsite. The coordinates were correct, so it should be somewhere around ... there!

Cutting back on the throttle, Viktor slowed the rotors and gently brought the helicopter down to land. Men poured out of the flimsy tents that shook viciously from the force of the slowing rotor blades. A mixture of guns, daggers and throwing stars were aimed at the helicopter, the men cautious of who this could be. They were expecting Orn and the other rebels to return soon from their rescue mission, but they did not want to take an unnecessary risk. After all, the ShinRa logo was clearly painted on the side of the machine.

Viktor jumped out of the helicopter and ran to the side door and wrenched it open. Even as he climbed in and checked Sergei for a pulse, he called out to the other Wutai rebels.

"Quick, someone! He needs help! He's wounded!"

Several men rushed forward but one was at the forefront, taking charge of the entire situation.

"What happened?" the first man asked.

"He's dying!" Viktor shrieked in response, his breaths coming in short gasps as he pointed at the obvious. "Fallon, save him!"

"Easy, take it easy!" The man grabbed Viktor and gently pulled him out of the way before bending over Sergei's still form and assessing the situation. A frown came over his face as he stripped off his jacket and packed it against Sergei's stomach wound.

"Miri, get over here!"

A small, wiry man approached. His fingers were long and nimble and he carried a thick canvas bag. Miri gave a gasp as he saw the bloodied form. He wasted no time in issuing out orders.

"Get him to my tent, immediately! Careful, try not to jolt him too much! He's already lost too much blood. Satou, prepare yourself for a blood transfusion. Let's hope your blood types are compatible. Alright, quickly now!"

Viktor watched the flurry of activity through wide eyes. Strange and confused glances were tossed in his direction, but no-one asked the questions that lingered just under the surface. There were more pressing matters to deal with at the moment.

After some time, Fallon left the tent which had rapidly been transformed into a surgical room and approached the young boy. Orn had left Fallon in charge of the group during his absence. Fallon had a foreboding feeling that he would not like the news that Viktor would deliver to him. Steeling himself for the worst, Fallon sat on the edge of the helicopter, next to the boy.

"Viktor." Large dark eyes turned to him. "What happened?"

The boy looked down at the grass and said nothing. His shoulders hunched further and Fallon restrained the urge to offer the boy reassurance. Right now, he needed Viktor to talk. If he waited, that would happen.

"They didn't come back." Viktor's voice was so soft that Fallon almost missed the words. Prepared for it this time, he strained his ears and listened. "It was hours after the time he told me ... I tried calling him. He ... he never picked up."

Viktor sniffed and resolutely ignored the lone tear that dripped out of his eye and fell to the ground. He had to be strong.

"Eventually, Sergei came. He told me that-" Viktor's voice broke and he hesitated a moment. "The others didn't make it. They all ... they d-" A sob swallowed his words and Viktor gasped, as though horrified that he was allowing himself such weakness.

Having received the necessary information, Fallon gave in to his urge to comfort the boy. He lay an arm around Viktor's shoulders. That only prompted more tears to fall. He pulled the boy towards him, saying nothing as Viktor sobbed and his body shuddered. Desperate for the safety and reassurance of another, Viktor turned to Fallon. He buried his face in the man's shirt and wailed.

A lump rose in Fallon's throat but he forced it down. Orn should have known better than to involve a boy like Viktor in this war! He should have known that the kid would only end up getting hurt. Wars were horrific, violent affairs. Children did not belong in them. Orn should have known-!

Orn was dead. There was no point in wishing for what should have been.

"It's alright, Viktor. It's alright," Fallon whispered softly to the mourning boy.

"He promised me! He said nothing would go wrong! He promised he'd answer!" Viktor cried, heartbroken and confused. Why did it have to be like this? Why did everything have to _hurt?_

Not having any response to the boy's wrenching words, Fallon remained silent. He wanted to do something more to help, but could think of nothing. He was useless.

* * *

Sergei stared around at the rebel camp with tired, world-weary eyes. One week had passed since he had escaped and Viktor had flown him back to Wutai. One week since everything had changed.

Everyone from his team were dead. And so was Orn.

Fallon had explained to him the relationship between Orn and Viktor. In a moment of pity and bitterness, he had wished things could be different, but had quickly chastised himself. There was no way to change the past. They simply had to aim to create a better future.

It was a miracle in itself that Sergei had survived. The blood transfusion had been successful and that had been the one thing to tip the balance in his favour. Without the transfusion, he would have died in mere hours. Sergei owed these men a lot, but they treated him as though it was the other way around.

Viktor was on the other side of the camp, walking beside Fallon with his head down. Sergei watched curiously as Fallon spoke to the boy before resting a hand on his shoulder. Viktor shrugged and eventually nodded. Satisfied with that response, Fallon lifted his head and scanned the area. His eyes locked onto Sergei and he immediately headed towards him, Viktor still following.

"Sergei. You are recovering well?" Fallon initiated the conversation and Sergei nodded.

"Yes, much quicker than I anticipated. I am indebted to you and your men," Sergei replied. He noted that Viktor shifted uncomfortably as he said 'your men'.

"We are simply glad that we could help in saving the life of the infamous Sergei Molotov." At that, Sergei looked down. He had never asked for his hero-status but could do nothing to be rid of it. "You are a legend amonst all Wutai rebels. To have you here in our presence is a great honour."

"I'm just a man," Sergei said with a shake of his head. "Nothing special. So don't treat me any different to the rest of your men."

"I'm afraid that I can't agree to that," Fallon said with an amused snort. "See, the men have all made a request. I have talked it over with Viktor and he is in favour of it as well, but ultimately the decision rests in your hands."

"What is it?" Sergei asked, looking up again.

"Orn was our leader. You know that. He left me in command but with no disrespect intended to myself, all the men have come forward and requested that I ask you if you would be willing to stay with us." Fallon paused, "We want you to lead us, Sergei. There is no man in all of Wutai who is better equipped and experienced for the position. Of course, you don't have to decide now. But the offer stands."

Sergei frowned to himself as he mulled over Fallon's words. It was a lot to consider, but he knew there was only one thing stopping him from accepting it straight out.

Sergei turned his gaze to the young boy who stood there quietly.

"Are you sure about this, Viktor? I would not blame you for hating me. In a way, you could say that I was the cause of your father's death. So I would not blame you if you did not want me to stay here."

"I don't hate you," Viktor said in a small voice. "I just want to keep doing what ... what Dad did. That's all."

Sergei stared at him a moment longer, evaluating the boy's answer. At length he sighed and gave a weak nod.

"Very well then. I don't need more time to think this over. I have no other rebel group to go back to. All my men are dead now, too. And so far, this group has proven itself to be quick thinkers and resourceful. I have not seen you in battle, but if Orn is any example of the rest of you, I would be proud to fight alongside you."

"Then you will lead us?" Fallon asked with a hopeful tone. Sergei gave a grim smile.

"Yes. I will lead you."

The two men shook hands and exchanged a few more words before Fallon and Viktor left to let Sergei rest. Leaning back against the tree he sat underneath, Sergei clenched his jaw as anger rushed through him.

He could not do much now, but when he recovered, he would strike hard and fast at the heart of ShinRa! Now, more than ever, he hated that abominable company! They had destroyed everything good in this world! Determination in his cold dark eyes, Sergei allowed his body to heal while his mind began to scheme.

When he was through with them, there would be nothing left of ShinRa.


End file.
